Friend of Mine
by PomegranateQueen
Summary: Ginny Weasley’s life is about to be turned upside down. Warning: contains slash, het, pottymouthedness, and dry humor. Oneshot


**Title:** Friend of Mine  
**Rated:** A very **strong PG-13** (as in almost R)  
**Summary:** Ginny Weasley's life is about to be turned upside down.  
**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ginny/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, past of Draco/Ginny  
**Word count:** 3,305 (according to Word, that is)  
**Notes, etc.:** This was written for the sorting(underscore)(underscore)hat End of Term Challenge, the requirements being one het pairing, one slash pairing, a scene set at the Hogwarts' lake, and over 600 words . The title comes from an Eve 6 song and the entire fic was "inspired" by several other Eve 6 songs (among them "Showerhead" and "On the Roof Again".)

This was written pre-HBP, so it (roughly) follows canon as of OotP.

I've had this one on my ficjournal on lj for a while. It differs slightly (but not significantly) from that version as I had the irrepressible urge to edit my errors. I'm shocked that I haven't posted this here yet. I think I was a little afraid of the, uh, risque-ness pissing people off.

* * *

By the time five o'clock rolled around and her shift at the twin's shop finally ended, Ginny Weasley was exhausted. It was nearing the end of August and the half-off, back-to-school sale had kept everyone busy. All day there had been at least five adolescent patrons running around the shop and touching _everything_ in sight—despite many warning notices telling them not to. Though, on the bright side, her reversal charms—not to mention her reaction time—were getting better. Either way, she would be glad once the first of September rolled around and all the teens and preteens were at Hogwarts rather than running around the shop. 

Normally, she would stop in at the coffee shop on the corner and just down the block from the flat she shared with Seamus, her boyfriend of three years, and indulge herself in a grande caramel latte and a little muggle atmosphere. Today, however, her feet were throbbing, her back was aching, and her neck muscles were tensed like lead; all she wanted to do was have a nice, long, soothing bubble bath and perhaps finagle Seamus into giving her one of his _divine_ back rubs. If she weren't living in a mostly muggle inhabited area, she could apparate to her flat; but, as it was, she _was_ living in a mostly muggle neighborhood. Checking her watch (a muggle _Timex_ her dad had bought her for her birthday a few years back) she realized she was arriving home a good twenty minutes earlier than usual. Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders and hoped Seamus had, at the least, made some tea.

She put her key in the lock and turned it a quarter turn to the right and, pausing to look behind herself and make sure none of her muggle neighbors were about, pulled out her wand and gave it four taps. The key turned the rest of the way as the lock clicked open. Stowing both her wand and her key in her pocket, she walked into the front room of the flat. As she walked into the main room of the flat, she heard the most peculiar noise coming from the bedroom she shared with Seamus. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she shrugged off her overcoat and set it on the sofa before wandering, perplexed, towards the door. She put her hand on the knob and her ear to the door.

She could hear Seamus grunting—she would recognize _that_ grunting anywhere, she thought off-handedly and with a fond smile before returning to the task at hand. She knew he wasn't in there alone; she might be considered naïve in some circles, but she was certainly not an idiot. And, well, she remembered some of the rumors that had floated around once she and Seamus had first begun dating. She pressed her ear harder against the door—completely forgetting the fact that she _always_ kept a pair of Extendable Ears in her pocket—and tried to hear more clearly.

After listening for a few seconds, she gave up and pulled back from the door. She gave it a hard stare before determinedly twisting the knob. She was not prepared for the sight that met her. Seamus and (_bloody hell!) _Dean Thomas were naked and sweaty and thoroughly enjoying themselves in her bed. She knew her eyes had to be impossibly large and she could not help the strangled, startled gasp that passed her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth and hoped they hadn't heard.

But they had. Seamus and Dean had both frozen at what she belatedly realized was more like a shriek than a gasp. They both looked at her, utterly horrified and guilty. Quickly, she began to back from the room.

"Gin…" Seamus began to say. She held her hands out in front of her.

"No. No. You know what? You just finish up here and I'll be…somewhere that isn't here." With that she turned and fled from the room.

* * *

"I just can't believe it, Hermione! I mean…I guess it would be easier if it had been someone like Lavender or Parvati. You know, someone with _girl_ parts. I mean, I can't be _that_ bad of a shag that he had to go and…and…with _Dean_." Ginny agonized, leaning against an old oak tree that grew on the shore of the lake at Hogwarts. 

"It must have been rather shocking to come home to…that. I can imagine you'd be feeling a bit-"

"A bit? _A bit?_ I'm feeling more than _a bit_, here, Hermione. I'm feeling about a whole ocean of it, right now!"

"Ginny! Keep your voice down! I could get censured for allowing you on the grounds without a pass or scheduled visit, you know. Even if classes aren't in session." Hermione hastened to add at the slight look of protest on Ginny's face.

"Right, right. Sorry, Hermione; it's just, well, I needed someone to talk to and Luna is off hunting snorknacks in Sweden again. Neville and Susan are busy with the triplets. Ron—or any of my other brothers, come to that—would insist on going back to the flat and killing both Seamus and Dean. And I haven't a clue as to Harry's whereabouts. I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you; I'll just go off to the Hogshead and drown my sorrows in a nice, tall glass of Firewhiskey. Sorry to have bothered you." Ginny stood up and made as if to leave. She had just begun brushing leaves off her bum when Hermione's hand caught her arm.

"No, Ginny, don't go. I'm sorry. I just wanted you to realize what I was risking; that's all." Hermione said, feeling slightly exasperated with the youngest Weasley.

"Yes, of course. But I suppose I should go, anyhow. Find a place to stay for the night and all that, 'cause I'm _definitely _not going back to the flat." She gave Hermione a small replica of her regular, patented devious grin. "Thanks for listening, though." She pulled Hermione into a tight hug before heading off towards Hogsmeade.

* * *

"I mean, wouldn't it be a shock to you if you came home and found your boyfriend fucking your ex-boyfriend?" Ginny questioned the wizard sitting next to her at the bar of the Hogshead. "I'd think it would." She said and took another rather large gulp of Firewhiskey. 

"Weasley, what _have_ you done with yourself?" A drawling, masculine voice said from behind her. She whipped her head around to find the owner of the voice and nearly fell off the stool. "Perhaps a booth would suit you better?"

Lifting her head, she recognized the slicked back, white-blond hair and cool grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. "Bugger off, Malfoy. I'm in no-" hic, "mood to deal with you."

He rolled his eyes and hauled her off the stool. "C'mon then." He said, dragging her to a back booth. She made a grab for her drink, but it was out of reach. She struggled for a moment before pausing and kicking him in the shin with her heel. While he hopped for a moment, rubbing his injured shin, she sprinted towards the bar grabbed her drink before walking back, wearing a satisfied grin, to where Malfoy now leaned against an unoccupied table. He gave her a slight glare before leading her to a booth in the back.

She plopped down and began to sip at her drink, completely ignoring the man who had moved her there. A few moments passed—in which Ginny furthered her state of inebriation from simply quite pissed to nearing her goal of three sheets to the wind, and Draco pointedlt looked anywhere but her—before either decided to speak. Just as Ginny brought the glass up to her lips for the _nth_ time, Draco's hand shot out and halted her progress.

"What?" She asked, sounding both petulant and plastered.

"What were you going on about at the bar? Finnegan sleeping around again?" He asked, his tone holding about one-fourth malice and three-fourths concern. She glared at him.

"Why? You won't go off and do anything stupid if I tell you, will you?" She said with as much gravity as she could muster. He raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that clearly said, "Who do you think I am? Your brother?"

"Fine. Fine. I came home from work early today and found Seamus in the bedroom with Dean. And they weren't playing chess." She stared at him, daring him to laugh.

"Thomas? The mudblood? Ow!" Ginny's foot had somehow collided in a very unpleasant way with his already sore shin. "Bloody…" Malfoy's voice trailed off into a mumble and eventually became inaudible.

"Why do you care, anyway?" Ginny asked, gazing longingly at the bottom of her now empty glass.

In an instant, Malfoy's entire countenance hardened and he resembled the harsh, cruel bully he had been before Voldemort's defeat. "You know why."

"Ah, right. That." She said, after a moment's pause.

"_Ginny? Malfoy?_" An incredulous voice asked. They both looked up to find Harry Potter standing beside the booth looking two parts grubby, one part shocked, and another part appalled.

"Harry!" Ginny squealed delightedly, jumping out of the booth and throwing her arms around his neck. He hesitantly put his arms around her back. "Oh, Harry I haven't seen you in ages." He smelled good so it seemed like a good idea to nuzzle his neck.

"Ginny…" He said, feeling slightly at a loss for words. He looked to Malfoy, not necessarily expecting anything but still hoping for some sort of an explanation. "Is she…?"

"Pissed? Drunk off her arse? Yea, ask her about it." He nodded at the redhead still in Harry's arms and stood up. "Well, now that someone _responsible_ is here, I think I'll retire for the night. Take care of her, Potter." And with that he walked towards a wall panel that hid the entrance to the stairs. He passed through it and was, presumably, on the way to his rented room.

Harry gently pushed Ginny off of him and gently settled her down on her side of the booth before sitting himself on the other bench. "So, er, what was that all about?"

Ginny heaved a sigh. "Seamus."

"Seamus?"

"Seamus and _Dean_."

"Ok, what about them?" Harry was feeling beyond confused.

"I came home and found them…and they were, you know…" She made an odd grunting noise. It took nearly a full minute of silent contemplation for her meaning to register.

"Bloody hell! Seamus and Dean were…and you walked in on it?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"But how does Malfoy fit into all this?" Ginny sighed.

"It's this thing. I kind of saved his life a few years ago. And then we kind of shagged. A lot." Harry goggled at her, feeling as though his world had suddenly turned arse-up—which was certainly not an uncommon feeling for several people that night. Ginny missed his look entirely and continued. "So, now he thinks he owes me something. Every time he finds me in vulna-vulnerable position, he's 'honor bound' to take care of me. Something about righting past wrongs on the road to redemption and all that."

"Oh." Harry could understand that. Not the shagging part; the idea of shagging Malfoy did _not_ turn him on in the least. Though, the idea of shagging Ginny did. He adjusted himself as discretely as possible.

Which is to say that he wasn't very discrete at all, being more than a little drunk himself—they were in a bar, after all. Ginny tilted her head and eyed him quizzically. "Problems, Harry?"

"Quite a few." He muttered to himself before answering her. "None that I can think of." He decided a change of subject was in order. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is a very good question. I haven't a clue."

"Oh." He paused, seeming to mull something over. "Well, since you haven't got a place to stay the night, you can sleep at my flat, if you'd like."

"All right." She nodded and lifted her glass to her lips, hoping it had miraculously refilled itself as some glasses in the Wizarding World did that. Alas, it was not to be.

"Let's get you home then, yea?" Ginny nodded and tried to stand. She wobbled and would have tumbled to the floor if Harry hadn't caught her. He tried not to think about how graceful the exposed curve of her neck was or how if he moved a little to the left, he had a perfect view of her rather ample cleavage. "I doubt you're up to apparting. Let's try the floo, shall we?"

* * *

Twelve hours later, Ginny was treated to a rather rude awakening when she toppled over the side of Harry's divan, knocked her hip on the coffee table, and finally smashed, face first, into the floor. Groaning, she pushed herself up into a half sitting position and stared blearily out over the table top. 

"Ginny? Are you all right? I heard a crash…" Harry rushed into the room, clad in only a towel and clearly sporting that just-from-the-shower look. They stared at each other for a moment. Ginny half-heartedly moved herself to a semi-upright position on the sofa.

"What time is it?" She asked in a groggy, pained voice. Her head hurt something fierce and she had yet to remember what she was doing in Harry's flat and on Harry's divan when she should be in _her_ flat and _her _bed with _her _boyfriend. Thoughts of Seamus triggered the unpleasant memory of him sweaty, naked, and in bed with Dean Thomas. Right. That's what she was doing here.

"About half-past noon. Are you sure you're all right?" Harry moved towards her, looking concerned. Though both her head and her heart ached—and, come to think of it, her stomach too—she was most certainly not dead below the waist and, therefore, noticed he was clad only in a towel. A fluffy white towel that, if it slipped just so, would allow her to see his—

"Gin?" She had suddenly shut her eyes very tightly.

"Hangover."

"Ah." He said. She heard him walk over to the sofa and sit down.

"Harry?"

"Yea?"

"You _do_ realize you're only wearing a towel, don't you?" She asked, eyes still firmly shut.

"Huh?" He seemed genuinely confused for perhaps half a second. "Oh! Right. I'll, er, be right back." And then his weight left the divan. A few seconds later she heard a door shut and assumed it was safe to open her eyes.

Ginny had never been in Harry's flat—he had cut himself off from most reminders of his Hogwarts years after Voldemort had been defeated—and decided she wanted to see just how he lived now. The front room was nice with its soft, dark brown suede dian, matching armchair and loveseat, an oval shaped table—stained to match the the other furniture—several bookcases full of books both wizarding and muggle and topped with knick-knacks and photographs of people she thought she might recognize, but couldn't be sure, and a large entertainment center housing a muggle entertainment system. Curiosity eating at her, she decided to have a look at the pictures.

The first one she came to was a muggle photo of Harry, a woman with bright cinnamon-red hair, and a rather handsome black-haired fellow standing around a motorbike. The other bloke looked slightly familiar, but Ginny couldn't quite place him. She shrugged and moved on to the next photo. This one was a wizarding photo of Harry, the black-haired man from before, a lean, brunette fellow, and a stout, sandy-haired chap with a pudgy face and bright eyes. Her brow furrowed and she wondered where Harry had met all these people. She skipped over a few and found a most curious one; it was a wizarding photo like the last, but the boys in it had to be in their mid-teens. What was even more curious was that these boys looked like younger versions of the four men in the last picture. How could that be? Wouldn't she have known if Harry had been so close with someone outside of herself, Ron, and Hermione back when they were still in school? So, who _were_ these people? And why did it look like Harry was in every picture?

She picked up the photograph of the four teenage boys and peered at it as though it held the answers to all the ultimate questions. Her mind raced, trying to figure it out. Staring at the Harry look-alike, she remembered something she had overheard Remus telling Sirius the summer she stayed at Grimmauld Place.

_"I'll be damned if he isn't the spitting image of James, Moony." _

_"He may look like James, but I have a feeling he's going to be more like Lilly. Just you watch."_

The frame slipped from her hand and landed with a dull thud on the plush, cream-colored carpet. Her eyes skipped over all of the photographs all of them were of the same people. She felt bile rise in her throat. All of the pictures in Harry's house were of his dead parents and their dead friends. The sound of a door opening jolted her out of her thoughts and she hastily picked up the photo and replaced it on the bookcase, willing herself not to vomit right there on his carpet.

"Ginny?" Harry asked as he approached her. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale."

Ginny nodded. "I'm fine; just a little nauseous, that's all."

"Oh, right. Well, there's some tea in the kitchen, if you'd like some." He offered awkwardly.

"Sure." She said as she turned and motioned for him to lead the way. "Actually, that sounds brilliant right about now."

* * *

"So, how're you feeling? After last night, I mean." Harry asked in an unsure voice. 

Ginny sipped her tea. How was she feeling? "Well, honestly, I'm trying not to think about it. I mean, I was with Seamus for three years; you'd think I would've noticed that he…you know." She heaved a woeful sigh. "Of course, I think some part of me knew he wouldn't always be faithful. I just sort of wrote it off as a personality quirk and put it out of my mind. Which was probably a mistake; but I so wanted to be happy after…everything." Ginny hoped Harry wouldn't freeze up at her accidental mention of her own torture at Voldemort's hands; she knew he blamed himself for it before and probably still did.

"Yea." Harry said in a strangled voice, his face lowered. Ginny's eyes watered as she remembered the way he had agonized over her once she was rescued and safe. She reached out across the table and put her hand on his, praying the gesture wasn't too forward.

"Don't Harry." That got his attention; his face snapped up to look at her. "Don't look back; the past is just that. You can't forget it and you can't run away from it. You just have to move forward and _not _dwell on what could have been." She paused and bit her lip. "I know you didn't bring me here for this." She gesticulated widely with her hands. "But I'm here and I suppose it needs to be said. And, hangover be damned, I'm going to say it. We miss you; _I _miss you."

"Ginny-"

"No, Harry, if I don't just say this then I won't be able to. I think the reason I was all right with Seamus, even though I knew we probably wouldn't work out, was because he was sort of a placeholder for you. You're it for me, Harry Potter." And with that, she leaned over the table, spilling both cups of tea, and kissed him full on the lips.


End file.
